As I reach the bridge, they’re in full view. Rows of massive eucalyptus trees following each side of River Pan Long far into the distance. Leaves and pods litter the path that lines the river. Their roots reach down and draw life from its waters. 

River Pan Long – once crowded with Chinese fishing boats serving fresh fish as people poured down to the river banks, it’s the egrets who are fishing now and my sport is the study of them – learning their shape, their movement, their freedom. 

It’s the end of December but a warm breeze brushes my cheek. 

A breath of heaven. 

So unlike the winter winds of my homeland with their arctic chill. 

Canada is the place of my birth, my childhood, my citizenship. But it’s been five and a half years since I’ve trod Canadian soil – longer than I ever thought I’d be away. It’s a place I long for, filled with memories faded. This riverside is the path I’ve walked day after day, year after year. These are the birds that dance for me.

I counted 18 egrets from my perch on the bridge. One swoops down and lands on a rock in the river, water swirling ‘round her and I can’t help following her to the water’s edge. Brown feathers coat the female’s back, her white wings tucked away. She pecks at a leaf, then lets it go. 

The river is her source of life. It nourishes me too.  I take life-giving sips of its sights. The leaves and branches fill my sketchbooks, birds and gentle waters my paintings and now that I’m leaving this place, I wonder how I can live without it. 

I didn’t think we’d stay so long. 

I’d planned a trip nearly two years ago – a few months in Canada, then back again. But borders closed and flights were cancelled, locking me in, making my world so small. Canada felt farther than ever, but staying here created a bond that runs deep with the rhythm of the river, the ivy and flowers that sprawl at every turn, the red soil beneath my feet and the scent of eucalyptus.

The wind catches a leaf and it brushes my shoulder on its descent. It flits and twirls and is pulled downstream. A series of scenes – brief, ever moving, ever changing. An egret caws, and draws my eyes upward. The sun glows on his radiant white and my breath catches in my throat. He lands on the tip of a tree – the branch merely dips to catch his weight. 

I hold this moment.

I’m a block away from our apartment, but a world away. The egret tucks his long neck, lifts his wings and takes flight. A splash of white across the brilliant blue heavens. I watch him fade away, accompanied by one more, then another. I’ll follow them soon, through the sky, far away from this place I now love to call home.

.